


The Taste of Despair

by attaccabottoni



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: Was there anything about his heart worth keeping?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	The Taste of Despair

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Vergil! For your gift, here’s some speculative scenes from your time in Hell.
> 
> (If this makes anyone feel bad, you might be pleased to know that I had a hard time writing this. I promise never to drink 13-day cold brew coffee ever again.)

Pain had a way of bringing to surface things that he would rather remain hidden within himself.

His pride would not allow any satisfaction to his tormentors. There were no disgusting displays of unseemly emotion. His discipline lasted long after his vocal cords were shredded from angry screaming. And yet, his mind gradually started to wander without his permission to places he thought to have abandoned already.

It hurt like nothing else when Yamato broke in half. He had wanted to howl in rage, mind blanking with the single overriding desire to give comfort to his loyal companion through vengeance. He found himself unable to even hold onto her in the end.

The loss of faithful Yamato was his one concession to defeat. It proved his abiding fear — that he was nothing like his father, after all.

Pain was his only constant now.

Were he to be expended for some purpose, then if he were finally emptied out, he could find some kind of refuge. If he were left alone, he could bring about an end.

The pain made it impossible to disappear. It was his inexorable reality, eating at his memories until they faded into vague impressions, dispersing like so much smoke from the ashes of his life. There went his father, who was everything he aspired to be. There went his mother, whose happiness once meant everything to him. There went his brother, who used to smile like the sun. There went the woman who sought to give him kindness, in brief moments of touch. Soon they were all lost, because loving him brought nothing to them but darkness and ruin.

Not even his sorrow for the loss gave him relief.

He would never again know peace. It was only right.

* * *

In the in-between times when there was nothing to occupy him, his consciousness would drift while snatches of conversation would occur above him.

“There’s barely anything to feed off of that filth anymore.”

“Not even violating it makes it twitch now. It stopped being fun when it has gone so quiet.”

“Even if you liquefy its insides with poison, it keeps regenerating.”

“The increased shock from the lightning should make it lose muscle control, but it has no effect on its regeneration either.”

“Suffocation only slows down the regeneration.”

“Draining it of blood might do the trick, but it could start up again with enough time.”

“Frying its nerves might numb it. There would be no need for it to replenish its blood if it feels nothing.”

Sometimes, faint murmurs meant to soothe would reach him. It sounded like someone’s name. In the duration, he would keep his eyes shut and pretended not to hear. It only stopped when he couldn’t stifle his ragged breathing anymore.

* * *

He could not remember the provenance of the amulet, but he could sense its resonance whenever Mundus drew near. Its reaction within proximity was a sign that it was his, despite its woeful singing making him uncomfortable even from a distance.

* * *

It was only Mundus whose touch did not come with pain. Oh, he would bestow it from time to time and always from afar, yet for the most part, chose not to. While cradled in one enormous hand, he found the sensation confusingly different, that it was difficult to meet the gentleness with resistance.

“I see that things are going splendidly.”

He did not expect to be found pleasing.

“The changes are progressing as expected. There’s only the matter of your regeneration.”

There was no need to restrain him as he could barely move. The ever-present pain distracted him from the mournful anguish coming from the amulet.

“All the methods to stymie your accelerated healing were for naught. What is taken from your body will only replenish itself. The only solution is to put in a replacement for the vacuum. It took many tests to perfect the way.” He was brought so close that he could feel the displacement of air from his breath while he spoke. “This artificial core will make you an entirely new creation.”

Perhaps it had something to do with power, that Mundus could touch him and not be stained.

“Once we replace your heart with this, then your transformation will be complete. Soon there will be nothing to hold you back from becoming my most powerful servant.”

Somehow Mundus found something in him to want.

There was a flash of light, revealing the pendant floating within his line of sight. “You can get this trinket back.”

He looked up at the looming face in anticipation. He must have the amulet at all costs. It was the only thing he had left that he had the power to hold onto, that meant something to him, that could tether the remnants of his lingering sense of self.

“In exchange, I want your heart, freely given.”

It was a generous offer. Sacrifices have greater power when it is done through intent and not force. And power was the only thing anybody has wanted him for.

What will it change? He already lost his name and his voice. Was there anything about his heart worth keeping?

He could not even recognize the hands he held before him.

It shouldn’t be so easy, but it was all done in an instant. With precise aim, he used a summoned sword to plunge through his chest with just enough force to open his sternum and disconnect his main blood vessels in one move. Then he angled the blade to crack open his ribs so he could reach inside his chest with nerveless fingers, using what was left of his strength to bring forth the beating organ as offering.

Mundus took his heart from his hand, brought it to his mouth and ate it.

He wondered what he tasted like.

His vision began to tinge with red when the artificial core took over the vacant spot in his chest. So intent was he on the pendant returning to its place around his neck, he did not notice his veins glowing blue as corruption spread through his body.

_Don't be afraid_ , he wanted to tell the voice from the amulet. _I am rid of my last weakness._ _You never have to worry about me again._

After that, the amulet’s sorrowful whispers were blissfully silenced.


End file.
